


Lullaby for Cas

by Bakeneko



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bakeneko/pseuds/Bakeneko
Summary: The eternal sleep that the Empty has promised him is restless and fitful. Castiel can't fall asleep, leaving behind a world plunged into chaos, the people he loves, his son. The emotions and attachments that made the insensible celestial being feel alive. He tosses hectically and mutters constantly, and these movements annoy the Empty.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 7





	Lullaby for Cas

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Колыбельная для Каса](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/716255) by DarkElly. 



> Still trying to fix the canon, because Castiel didn't deserve this fate.

The eternal sleep that the Empty has promised him is restless and fitful. Castiel can't fall asleep, leaving behind a world plunged into chaos, the people he loves, his son. The emotions and attachments that made the insensible celestial being feel alive. He tosses hectically and mutters constantly, and these movements annoy the Empty. It wraps the unquiet angel more tightly in a suffocating blanket of sticky nothingness in order to make him calm down, but he doesn't succumb to its influence. No way.

The Empty is enraged, but pride doesn't allow it to kick the guest out again. Castiel should be here, period. It cradles him for the hundredth time and hisses angrily in his ear: "Sleep. Sleep now", and hears the response endlessly repeated in different ways: "Dean. Dean. Dean". The sound of that name is louder than a tocsin, and the Empty's only regret is that it can't make him forget. Angels don't feel, and that's why it can't control what's going on inside the abnormal Castiel.

At some point, another voice bursts into the black, sound-absorbing space. A voice that the local master can't resist. A voice that makes it grumble and curl into a ball, silencing in deadly fear. The voice of God, but not of the one who had disturbed its eternal sleep in the madness of his deeds. The young, defiant voice, the voice of forgiving.

At some point, another voice bursts into the black, sound-absorbing space. A voice that the local ruler can't resist. A voice that makes her grumble and curl into a ball, hiding in deadly fear. The voice of God, but not of the one who, in the madness of his deeds, had disturbed her eternal sleep. The voice of a young, defiant voice, the voice of forgiving.

And Castiel tosses again, steadily tearing the sticky covers of eternal silence with nervous, bustling movements, reaching out like a sprout reaches out to the light that radiates from the newcomer. Despite the will of the Empty. Despite of all the laws of the universe. Despite of his own decisions.

— They won, Castiel, — the voice says. — They defeated God.

— Jack... Jack, is that you? — the angel whispers, opening his eyelids weighted with eternal sleep, with an incredible effort.

The Empty tries to shut him up one last time, but it's too late — it has no power over him anymore. The deals are canceled, the vows are forgotten — Castiel no longer belongs to her, he is rejected by its very core. By the will of the new God.

And the voice becomes louder, more powerful, more determined. Its sound sends shivers of cold through the nonexistent skin and hits the imaginary eyes with a blinding omnipresent light. It tears the dream that embraces everything and everything, boldly returning the consciousness to the angelic shell.

— You must go back, — the voice orders. They need you. He needs you.

The Empty feels almost physical pain as Castiel obeys and struggles to get to his feet. Slowly and hesitantly, not fully awake yet. His eyes are wide and hazy, searching the desert space for the one who called him back. Strands of sticky gloom trail behind his body in frustration, but their connection is weakening and thinning by each second. Finally, the angel straightens up and dusts off his cloak, repeating softly but firmly:

— HE needs me.

The space around it howls in disappointment like a furious beast letting go of its tenacious claws. The Empty can't keep its word, and this is unbearable, but it is better to be defeated than to be overwhelmed by the divine light that flows from everywhere. The proximity of God is deadly to it. The presence of this angelic rebel violates all laws. Perhaps it's all for the better — let them do their crazy things away from here, and it would finally be able to sleep...

Somewhere outside, the afternoon is glowing in the sunlight, and people are scurrying around like busy ants. The saved world is living by everyday rules, and it doesn't care about its savior, who sits alone in the far corner of a country diner and sadly sips beer from a bottle. Dean can't taste the drink, can't see anything around him, and his thoughts are far, far away. There is no joy in his heart, despite the victory. That's why he doesn't hear the door open, doesn't see the man in the beige trenchcoat enter the cafe. The man who walks unsteadily towards him.

— Hello, Dean, — comes the voice that sounds painfully familiar, its timbre broken with excitement.

— Cas... — he says in a hollow voice after a long pause, and the angel's shocked gaze is full of a million unspoken emotions that tremble like tiny pearls in two pools of unshed salt water. — I have so much to tell you...


End file.
